David Sedaris

I found the book hidden in the woods beneath a sheet of plywood, its cover torn away and the pages damp with mildew.

I read, Brock and Bonnie Rivers stood in their driveway, waving goodbye to the Reverend Hasselbeck.

Goodbye, they said, waving.

Goodbye, the Reverend responded.

Tell those two teens of yours, Josh and Sandy, that they'll make an excellent addition to our young person's ministry.

They're fine kids, he said with a wink.

almost as fine and foxy as their parents.

The rivers chuckled, raising their hands in another wave.

When the reverend's car finally left the driveway, they stood for a moment in the bright sunshine before descending into the basement dungeon to unshackle the children.

The theme of the book was that people are not always what they seem.

Highly respected in their upper middle class community, the Rivers family practiced a literal interpretation of the phrase, love thy neighbor.

Limber as gymnasts, these people were both shameless and insatiable.

Father and daughter, brother and sister, mother and son.

After exhausting every possible combination, they widened their circle to include horny sea captains and door-to-door knife salesmen.

Yes, these people were naughty, but at the age of 13, I couldn't help but admire their infectious energy and spirited enjoyment of life.

The first few times I read the book, I came away shocked, not by the character's behavior, but by the innumerable typos.

Had nobody bothered to proofread this book before sending it to print?

In the opening chapter, the daughter is caught fondling her brother's kek in the dining room.

On page 33, the son has sex with his mother, who, we are told, possesses a fond power of totz.

I showed the book to my sister Lisa, who tore it from my hand, saying, Let me hold on to this for a while.